kim yugyeom

there's no plan, there's no kingdom to come

Yugyeom is always smiling like he knows he should be apologetic about something, but is having such a great time that he just isn’t. Like he’s half-convinced that fear and love are the same thing. Like at any given moment he’s three Econ assignments behind and still daydreaming about spring break in Saipan, because the Mariana Islands run the best skydiving tours this side of the Pacific, and look-- he’s not scared to fail any more than he’s scared to fall.

Hedonistic, hapless, and hopeful, Yugyeom grows up lacking nothing. Subsequently, he demands nothing, accommodating and magnanimous like only the truly idle rich can be. His father runs a construction company, he thinks. That or he chairs the engineering department of an energy firm, or consults for a multinational conglomerate. Maybe he’s in trade, or manufacturing, or… hedge funds? Yugyeom has no sense of his family’s net worth, or how to access his own trust fund, or how his mother unfailingly finds out every time he buys a new car. It’s not like she follows him on Instagram?!

All his life he acts like a big kid, heart soft as a wool autumn sweater, arms outstretched and growing toward the sun. On weekends he blows through his allowance on amusement park rides. On weekdays he hurries home before music lessons and pretends to be asleep when the tutor arrives. He has the same appetite for romcoms as he does for horror movies. He never outgrows his distaste for vegetables. And his handwriting, which his kindergarten teacher assured up and down would mature with time, remains absolutely atrocious.

His mother wrings her hands because he loves hip hop more than piano and street dance more than hapkido, but as the second son Yugyeom’s only filial obligation is to be kind and to be happy. So she lets him join the dance crew he idolizes, and stands in line for his limited edition shoes, and cooks him separate dinners, all as long as he stays in the international school she picked for him.

Classwork is grueling, but it’s literally his one job. Eventually the whirlwind of test prep tutors and essay advisors make him feel a little ungrateful, mostly because they tell him to his face that he’s being ungrateful. During CSAT season Yugyeom tries, he really does, but spends his study breaks thinking longingly about snowboarding lessons, Wolmido, dance practice. He only gets into KU thanks to a hearty family donation. And he only goes to make his mom happy.

On the side he falls in love with frat parties, extreme sports, and yuzu flavored Chumchurum. In his first semester he sprains his ankle so badly trying to do a martial arts backflip that he wore a cast from midterms through finals. Last Valentine’s he marched out of the shower naked and danced to a trendy pop song until his heartbroken roommate shrieked and laugh-cried himself to sleep. He smiles warm and bright, keeps his messiest nights off Snapchat, and is 98% certain he’s well on his way toward a degree in… finance? Marketing. Business…

His father has an internship placement for him in the summer, military service is still in the distant future, and his Audi’s Wi-Fi hotspot is kind of awesome.

Yeah.

There’s nowhere to look but skyward.